


The Curse of Valentine's Day

by merpprem



Series: Harry Potter's Attempts at Botching Tom Riddle's Love Confessions [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: AU - Harry's Era, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff, Harry Potter & Tom Riddle Attend Hogwarts Together, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining Tom Riddle, Prefect Tom Riddle, Quidditch Captain Harry Potter, Sassy Classy Draco Malfoy, Scheming Tom Riddle, Valentine's Day Fluff, but Tom Riddle doesn't pine, 中文翻译 | Translation in Chinese
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,631
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24271852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merpprem/pseuds/merpprem
Summary: Harry hated Valentine's Day, and Tom didn't know exactly why. But when Harry made no move to confront Tom after the Gryffindor-Slytherin Match, Tom had to resign himself to plotting again.He took into account Harry's Gryffindor tendencies and questionable abhorrence for Valentine's Day, of course. But Tom failed to account for the fact that Harry was doing everything in his power to help Tom realize that he would be daft to like someone like him.Chinese Translation by Otteon availablehere.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Series: Harry Potter's Attempts at Botching Tom Riddle's Love Confessions [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1745488
Comments: 52
Kudos: 672
Collections: Riddle





	The Curse of Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is part 2 of the series, I don't think I've succeeded much in making it "stand alone", although I think it definitely can be read without much context. 
> 
> I realized that there were so many fanfics on Harry being oblivious and dense, so I decided to put a twist and made Harry more perceptive but dense in a totally different way that gives me an opportunity for some hidden plot nyehehe
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! <3

He was a Gryffindor. In fact, he was so Gryffindor, that if there was a single person more Gryffindor than Gryffindor himself, it would be him. 

Tom had all kinds of muggle probability calculations written on the back of a Charms essay he was too distracted to finish, and had even more plans drafted up on his desk. He had to be prepared for anything because Gryffindors were anything but rational, and therefore were the most unpredictable species ever to walk the planet. Of course, he was confident that he had been able to predict all of Harry’s possible reactions to his advances, all eighty-seven of them. He was a genius, he was Tom Marvolo Riddle, making eighty-seven different responses on how to deal with Harry’s looming confrontation was elementary for someone of his faculty.

He based all of his predictions on the fact that Harry was indeed the paragon of a Gryffindor, and while Tom was always keeping his self-assurance in check as to not cross the border between self-awareness and arrogance, as his yearmate he _obviously_ knew how Harry Potter worked. He had been studying with the Quidditch Captain for five years now, and was quite excellent at profiling others and manipulating them to reach his end goal. He was 99.98% sure that he had covered all the bases. 

But then that 0.02% of uncertainty that was mathematically impossible to erase from existence came in the form of Harry doing the most _un_ -Gryffindor thing and _not_ confronting him at all. 

It was so out of character that Tom briefly wondered if Harry’s fall, albeit cushioned, was hard enough to have caused a brain injury.

Tom was staring at the rather unsightly bird’s nest atop the Gryffindor’s obliviously empty head from across the Great Hall, unsure whether to be costernated or furious. It had been days after the match, days after Harry had seen Tom’s mouth move to cast a Cushioning Charm that Tom could’ve done wordlessly _and_ wandlessly, and almost two weeks after he had made his newfound (four-year long) interest in Harry known. Tom was certain that his actions had earned himself a significantly large spot in Harry’s thoughts. He should have come to him by now, all shy smiles and fierce blushes, sputtering and asking Tom if he would mayhaps agree to a romantic jaunt the following week. 

How dare he slip under the grasp of Tom’s cold, hard, calculator that only existed in his head because no wizard knew what the contraption was?

“Riddle, please explain to me why you are once again staring at Potter like you want to choke him to death,” Draco waved a thin hand in front of Tom’s face, effectively snapping him out of his reverie. Slightly irritated, he narrowed his eyes and glared sharply at the insolent blonde boy. 

“I can do as I please,” he said in a low, dangerous voice. Draco merely rolled his eyes in response, tossing his hair back and taking a delicate bite from the bread roll in his perfectly manicured hands, and _really,_ has no one ever suspected that this unsubtle, insufferable being was perhaps a little _too_ pretty to be attracted to girls, girls that aren’t even prettier than him? 

An idea suddenly came to Tom. Perhaps he could take some advice from someone like Draco, a haughty and refined Pureblood that had been taught grace and elegance ever since he could walk. He would certainly be the type to have a well of information on all things social. 

“Draco, do you have any special plans for Valentine’s Day?”

“Riddle, while I feel deeply honored and flattered, this is hardly the time nor the place to make such bold moves. My fangirls are watching.”

And Tom once again wondered if he could just drop out of Hogwarts and go straight to world domination, ordering that every single harebrained drama queen in Britain be exterminated.

* * *

“Valentine's Day is absolutely _weird,_ ” Harry complained, dropping into his seat beside Ron. Hermione had her nose buried in her work, quill in hand and peeking over the top of her thick book while Ron was piling a big serving of fluffy pancakes on his plate. Hermione was the first to respond anyway. 

“I for one do agree with your opinion, Harry.” she leisurely turned the page, eyes never leaving the fine print and probably reading at the same speed as Harry’s Firebolt when he lets Merlin take the wheel and throws himself to the ground. It actually kind of reminded him of how Riddle was so focused on his work, looking as if he would treat a world up on flames like some kind of relaxing campfire to use as a reading lamp. “Valentine’s Day disrupts the class lectures more often than not. I can hardly hear Professor Binns over someone’s love letter belting out a love song while theatrically burning into ashes.”

“Blimey, ‘Mione, no one can hear Professor Binns, Valentine’s Day or no Valentine’s Day. We can barely hear him already through all the yawning and snoring.” How Ron had managed to say that with such perfect pronunciation with a mouthful of souffle, Harry did not know. A hidden talent of his, he supposed. 

“You should really try listening in class once in a while, his lectures can actually be quite fascinating. Did you know that in 1612, some of the inns at Hogsmeade were—”

“—used by the goblins as headquarters during the Goblin Rebellion, yes, yes we know,” sighed Harry, picking up a glass of pumpkin juice and downing it one go. When he nonchalantly put the glass down, he noticed that Hermione had torn her chestnut eyes away from her book to stare while Ron’s hand hung frozen in the air, his fork clattering. “What, ‘Mione’s always talking about something else or the other, and I’m _kind of_ studying for OWLs,” he defended, suddenly feeling the need to protect his identity as self-proclaimed procrastinator.

“Kind of—mate, I thought we were together in this whole ‘no studying’ thing!” groused the redhead. 

“Well, I’ve got to think of Quidditch stuff too, y’know, so it never hurts to try and read a little in advance! A-anyway, that’s not what we were talking about,” Harry plopped his chin on his palm grouchily. “We’re talking about how Valentine’s is a massive pain in the arse.”

“Oh, don’t be ridiculous, Harry, Halloween is more like the holiday that you should be bemoaning about. Remember that time in first year when a troll attacked us? Or how about that time in second year, when you tried to carry some poor, petrified first year to the Hospital Wing and ended up getting suspected yourself just because you weren’t at the Feast?”

“You almost got run over by Hagrid’s flock of Hippogriffs too, almost fulfilling that phony prophecy Trelawney’s made up at the start of third year.”

“There was also that time in fourth year when you almost got yourself killed while trying to save someone from the lake, wasn’t there?”

“Alright, alright, I get it, don’t rub it in. For the record, I’d _still_ rather be chased by Hippogriffs than those pink love letters, though.” grumbled Harry. 

“Thankfully enough, nothing significant happened on Halloween this time around.” Hermione said pointedly.

“Well, I wouldn’t say that, ‘cuz last year we shared classes with the Slytherins all day. _All six periods._ Don’t you remember how painfully unlucky that was? And you were even partnered with Riddle all day ‘cuz Draco _and_ Dean were sick! You really _are_ cursed on Halloween, Harry.” Actually, Riddle had prevented at least two disasters from happening under his careful, perfectionist eye, one in Potions and one in Defense, but Harry wasn’t going to admit _that._ And even then, Harry and Riddle managed to work without a single word between them.

“That’s completely idiotic and close-minded of you, Ron. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.” Hermione snapped her book shut and tucked her quill into her bag. She was quicker to keep her book today, Harry wryly observed. By the creeping flush partially hidden behind her wild, frizzy hair, Harry could sort of come to a rough guess on what’s got her so set on steering the conversation away from Valentine’s. 

… What? He’d already cleared up that he wasn’t _that_ daft. 

But the sound of flapping wings and ruffling feathers had Harry’s mind come to a blank so unbelievably fast that no one would believe he was even an intelligent lifeform in his state.

“Ngrh,” Harry gurgled, his thinking too fast or too slow for his mouth to understand the commands his frazzled brain was trying to send. His eyes were wide and panicky, trying to convey his thoughts to Ron and Hermione through telepathy. However, Hermione and Ron didn’t look like they were planning to stay either, the bushy-haired girl hastily shoving her things in her bag while Ron stood up rather abruptly. Their eyes were drawn downwards and Ron’s nose and ears were rapidly matching Hermione’s hidden blush.

… are these two clowns being serious right now? Was he the only one seeing this?

“Wha’ ya goi’ ‘Mio’e?” Ron asked, crumbs on the side of his mouth and panic in his eyes. Ah, there it was, his mouth had a shockingly normal capacity after all.

“Where are _you_ going, Ronald? Oh, don’t talk when your mouth is clearly full!” Hermione tried to hide her own festering panic with a hint of disgust. “I have Ancient Runes next, I need to be a little earlier so that I can ask the Professor a very important question. You, on the other hand, have Care of Magical Creatures outside—”

“No, but, h-hey, can’t you stay for a bit and laugh a bit at Harry’s aggressive admirers? I mean, er—” Ron faltered when Harry sent him a withering look. “Uh, _fuck,_ see you later, mate!” 

And, Harry was left alone. Bloody brilliant. As he was left in the dust by his two enamoured, lovestruck best friends (some best friends), two owls swooped past him to chase the fleeing Gryffindors at a velocity that would put the rapid fire of Hermione’s academic ramblings to shame. Well, Harry wasn’t sure how they were going to fix _that_ particular mess, but they could probably sort it out by themselves.

Standing up, Harry paused, looking up at the ceiling of the Great Hall. 

He had been too distracted to realize it, but the rather frightening army of owls had dissipated without a single one flying in his direction. 

It wasn’t as if he _disliked_ people liking him or giving him small gifts, but his chest would always constrict painfully at the thought of being the centre of attention. He wasn’t even sure if he knew _how_ to properly accept other people’s feelings of affection, considering he was such an awkward, bumbling mess. Harry grinned, relief flooding his little bachelor heart. Perhaps Valentine’s Day wasn’t so bad after all. 

He would later spend classes snickering at the unfortunate recipients of charmed leprechauns and enchanted love letters, pretending that he hadn’t known exactly how it felt like to be in their shoes last year and every year before that. 

* * *

Tom didn’t particularly understand why Harry was so against the tackiness of his admirers. 

He was the Quidditch Captain, one of the best at Defense and while he wasn’t exactly classically handsome, even Tom could see why some of his more alarming admirers call him “so adorable that I could eat him up!” Abominable glasses aside, his eyes were quite big, and some saw his black mop as an addition to his… “devourable” aesthetic. He was always dressed in heavy robes or clothes at least four sizes too big, much to the dissatisfaction of the piranhas that treated good-looking people like fancy desserts. However, his physical prowess in the Quidditch Pitch had led to much positive speculation on how his body looked underneath. 

The Gryffindor _should_ be aware of how pleasing he was to the eye (and to the ovaries of many overly exuberant witches) because of the many men and women who gave him little gifts on Valentine’s. Tom agreed that they were quite the nuisance, but Harry looked downright upset at receiving the affections of another student. Most people in his place would either be gratefully abashed or arrogantly dismissive, hiding their inflating ego horribly. 

He wondered briefly what could have caused such a strong reaction from something as innocent as a third-year’s admiration. 

_[“Freak! How dare you embarrass our Dudley in front of his teacher?”_

_“Ah, Dudley’s cousin? He’s enrolled in that horrible school St. Brutus’, isn’t he, the one for… hooligans?”_

_“His clothes are so big and his glasses are so ugly… maybe he’s wearing them to hide that awful scar.”_

_“You would do well to know your place, boy, now shut your mouth and be quiet in your cupboard.”]_

But he didn’t wonder for too long, as Harry’s natural aversion to all things with a heart on it made Tom swell with smugness and another feeling he couldn’t quite place. And on the day of Valentine’s, he decided to prove to Harry that he was serious about pursuing him.

On that day, before Harry could move from the doors of the Great Hall to sit at the table draped in red and gold, Tom swiftly cast one of his favorite Notice-Me-Not modifications at his back. 

No owl or enchanted parcel would disturb Harry today, except for perhaps the rather enchanted Tom Riddle. 

* * *

“Potter.” 

Harry slowed down his pace and turned at the sound of his name, chomping down on his brain’s automatic signal to flinch at the sight of Tom Riddle walking towards him. He smiled warmly, but as Riddle’s lips curled the tiniest bit upwards, he was suddenly reminded of how rapid the Prefect’s mouth had been moving as he muttered a spell under his breath, possibly preventing Harry from getting hurt. 

It just wasn’t possible. Ever since then, Harry had tried to discourage Riddle's interest by avoiding him like the plague.

“Hi, Riddle. Valentine’s was rather interesting today, eh?” But nothing could break Harry out of his cheery mood, having received a staggering total of zero love tokens that day. “Your admirers are getting more creative every year! I especially liked the charmed mirror that followed you around Flitwick’s class, swooning over your ‘oh so dashingly handsome face’ and your ‘stimulating intelligence that stimulates other more private areas’.” 

Harry laughed heartily as Riddle’s eye twitched in response. “Yes, well, I am glad that you have found my mortification amusing.” 

“Aww, don’t be like that!” Riddle had caught up, and they were now walking a comfortable distance away from each other. “You prolly know that loads of people are crushing on you, and it can’t possibly be that bad to be showered with affection!”

Riddle cocked his head and looked at him like he was really putting a lot of thought into Harry’s words. “Yes, it can’t possibly be that bad, can it?” he said slowly. “Well, in any case, I have not called you to discuss the unreturnable affections of my admirers.”

Harry pitied the poor, besotted fools who Tom had so effortlessly wrapped around his finger. “Oh, well, what did you wanna talk about?” _Come to think of it, Riddle smells a lot like parchment and ink,_ Harry thought idly. 

“I actually came to give this to you.” And in the torch-lit hallway, with only the two of them and a few suits of armor present, Riddle brought out a flash of deep green and yellow from his robe pocket. 

Harry blinked. And in front of his face was the tiniest bouquet that Harry had ever seen.

Held together by a thin Hessian string were possibly the most miniscule sunflowers on the planet, arranged with a generous number of baby’s breath and jade-colored foliage. It was so puny yet so alluringly arranged that Harry couldn’t help but fall in love with it a little, reminded of the lovely garden that he took care of back at Privet Drive. He feared that Riddle would crush the frail-looking stems between his thumb and forefinger. 

“You do know that the Herbology assignment on charming flowers was due last week, right?” was the first thing that left Harry’s mouth. Riddle sighed. 

“Of course. But as I’ve said before, I came to give this to you. Would you be so kind as to accept it?” 

Harry instantly—er, belatedly, made the connection, his eyes widening to the size of saucers as he practically cracked his neck in his haste to assess Riddle’s expression.

 _Is he not aware that this is practically a love confession?!_ Harry half-demanded, half-screamed in his head. 

He snatched the offered bouquet gently, because he wouldn’t dare harm those innocently gorgeous flowers. He didn’t bother to handle the significantly larger and stronger Riddle with the same amount of care. Roughly and hurriedly pulling the bemused Slytherin in a random room, Harry slammed the door and thumped his head on it, breathing heavily. 

His heart, his traitorous heart, was doing Wronski Feints but no, Harry shut his eyes closed, trying to will these unfamiliar feelings away. 

“Riddle!” he spun around to chastise the idiot. “First, why in Merlin’s name is this bouquet so bloody small?”

“Would you have preferred a bigger one?” Tom raised a faultless eyebrow, and Harry was suddenly jealous on how he managed to do that so perfectly when Harry could only raise both his eyebrows at the same time—“I was under the impression that you weren’t so fond of showy gifts.” 

“Yes, _yes_ but for fuck’s sake, Riddle, it’s bloody Valentine’s Day!” Harry willed this high-functioning sociopath to understand the significance of this day, to understand why he can’t go around giving pretty flowers to just anyone without other people getting the wrong idea. Sweet Morgana, the man had a reputation to uphold. 

“So? I do not see the problem.” 

“You, you, y- _you,_ ngrh!” Harry threw his one free hand up in exasperation. How was Riddle supposed to keep his feelings secret when he was practically telling Harry he liked him? No, no, this was all wrong, but at the same time it made so much sense for the usually cold Slytherin to not know a thing on how to deal with unwanted feelings. Did the top student even know the gravity of his actions, the implications of them?

He’s off his rocker for liking, possibly crushing on Harry. A sudden image of Tom in first year came up in his head, the Slytherin eating alone at the very edge of the long table, but regal and unbothered by his solitude. Tom, in his second year, grudgingly replying to the questions of his yearmates but with his eyes trained solely on the book in front of him. Tom, who was always looking ahead, so very far ahead that he could barely see what was right in front of him. No, this perfect, untouchable prodigy needed to get his head back on the game. He didn’t need Harry of all things to distract him from becoming Minister of Magic or whatever the hell he wanted to be. 

“You don’t like it?”

If Harry didn’t know better, he could’ve sworn up and down that Riddle had looked just a tad bit heartbroken at the idea that Harry didn’t like the bouquet for Barbie dolls. Harry could almost _see_ dog ears on Tom’s head drooping in disappointment and a semi-pout on those slightly chapped lips. Harry was certain that if Tom had a tail, it would be positively lifeless.

For fuck’s sake—

“No, no, no, no, no,” Harry floundered, pressing the tiny little thing to his chest and goddamnit, his face felt like it was being licked by the emerald flames on someone’s Floo, if Floo flames had heat, that is. What? Harry’s brain cells were rapidly diminishing. “I, I love it, but you see, this thing, it’s just that it’s not really, er—”

 _Do you even know what this could be interpreted as?_ Harry roared and pointed an accusing, petulant finger at the fucking _idiot_. In his head, of course. _Hide your feelings better, you’re a fucking Slytherin! I didn’t even know you_ had _feelings until last week! I was only certain you were human a year ago, too!_

“Well then, please accept the bouquet as a token of my gratitude towards you.” _It’s motherfucking_ Valentine’s Day, _give your gifts of gratitude someday else!_

And Riddle had slipped out of the room, leaving Harry with a pocket-sized bouquet and a truckload of butterflies in his stomach. 

The next day, Tom dropped his forehead on the arm rest and groaned. Draco curiously plucked the note in his hand, and cruelly laughed. 

_I am grateful to you too for being my friend. I don’t have flowers with me, but I hope you like this doodle that I made. I even made Hermione teach me how to charm the doodle into doing a little dance!_

It wasn’t the most skillful doodle that Draco had ever seen, it was a rather simple drawing, actually. But even he had to admit that the leaf waving at him and the stem rapidly dancing and shaking around the parchment were quite endearing, no matter how cheap of a note it was. 

“Drama queen,” Draco said simply, lightly smacking the side of Tom’s head and Tom glared with such an intensity that Daphne Greengrass and Blaise Zabini, who were chatting amiably and were heading towards their direction, promptly pivoted and walked right out of the Common Room. 

He had half a mind to hex the Malfoy straight into a bed in the Hospital Wing. He was not the drama queen between the two of them. 

**Author's Note:**

> I couldn't resist a hint of plot hihi :3 And yeah, Tom definitely knew all about Harry's annual bad luck on Halloween and totally prevented any disaster.
> 
> Thank you so much for your support and your comments on the first work! I didn't know that it would be well received and I'm so grateful that a lot of you have left feedback or kudos! It's kinda been tough these past few days since a lot, loads of things came up but the positive comments have made me feel a bit better! Since you all liked it a lot I went and made the second installment right away, and I will put aside some time to reply to each and every comment 'cuz I really want to! <3 Stay safe!
> 
> Thank you, and I hope you guys will enjoy this series! c: 


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